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^C.^-T' \^ ^<^ y^/^<-*l C>^^^^ ^^^-
\ ■■'<s a
THE FOSSIL BRIDE,
a ILtQtnti of JFolftegtone,
AND OTHER VERSES.
W. 11, UARRISON.
There are more things in heav'n and earth, Horatio,
Than are dream't of in your philosophy. — HamleU
THE FOSSIL BBIDE 1
ON BEOWN AND SMITH 8
THE SONO OF THE BLACKBEEEY 9
CEOQUET ......... 12
THE OLD, OLD STOEY 13
NULLA EOSA SINE SPINA. 14
A DEEAM lo
FAIE AND FOETY 17
THE PAPEE SHIP 18
NAWEE AT MAODALA 20
WITH A CHINA SILK HANDKEECHIEF . . . .21
IN PEAISE OF THE WOELD WE LIVE IN . . . 22
BEAUTY . .23
A LIFE SKETCH 24
TEMPUS FUGIT 2o
BAEDS AND BELLS ........ 26
A BIETHDAY GEEETING 27
THE LITTLE VALENTINE 28
TO THE OLD YEAE ........ 30
TO THE NEW YEAE 31
\_Frinted for private erculation ohIj/.]
A LEGEND OF FOLKESTONE.
(lay Folkestone, though now such a tiourishino; town,
Was, forty years since, of but little renown ;
The ostensible trade of the small population
Was in fish, and their soles had a great reputation;
But, besides catching fish, it was more than suspected.
Other sources of lucre were far from neglected,
And that many who seem'd merely fishing-smack skippers,
Took a spoil, now and then, in the fastest of clippers ;
But, whatever their traffic, it seem'd of a sort
That kept revenue cruisers from rotting in port.
And 1 heard of such bargains in things which elsewhere
Were all of them costly, and some of them rare ;
The choicest Havanas,
Brocades, and I^andanas, ^
(iloves of (3ralli(^ extraction —
The price a mere fmction —
And Schnaps, neat from Holland, as Pat says, (falore.
Then, invitingly liandy,
Was the best of French Brandy,
And superb Cura^oa,
And, in stick pets of bottles, delicious Eau d'or,
Such as Sardanapalus,
Had he reign'd in our day, had uncork'd to regale us.
4 THE FOSSIL BRIDE.
I^ow some antiquary may ask the narrator
How the town got its name — unde hoc derivatur?
But thereby hangs a tale, which I'll tell as 'twas told
To me, though some say I was cruelly sold.
There once was a giant
On his gi'eat strength reliant —
Perhaps one of the Titans who warr'd against Zeus —
Or, opinions are various,
It might be Briareus,
And he need be well arm'd who goes out on the loose
With such thievish intentions as those, 'twill be seen,
Which impell'd this huge knave to a trip transmarine.
Prom the coast vis-d-vts,
And not heeding the sea.
Which e'en in mid-channel scarce reach'd to his knee,
He landed near Folkestone, intent on the pillage
Of out-lying village.
His water-proof camlet
Hid homestead and hamlet;
The while, a huge sack,
Cramm'd full of miscellanies, hung at his back.
Now you must not imagine the people unheeding
This very remarkable mode of proceeding:
Por to tradesman or peasant,
Thus to lose his belongings was not at all pleasant.
So, pursued by the natives.
This vilest of caitiffs.
While missiles fell thick.
In all shapes — stone and brick,
Was fain to decamp.
THE FOSSIL BRIDE.
The larcenous scamp !
When a truculent cobbler,
In a foot-race no hobbler,
Hurl'd his lapstone at once
At the pillager's sconce ;
Which compelled him to drop
Stall, stable, and shop ;
Nor for terms ever higgled he,
But higgledy piggledy.
Shot down in a flurry
His load, hurry scurry.
And just as it lay
It remains to this day,
As regards the old town.
Whose streets fairly bother one, —
From one house you look down
On the roof of another one.
Every street, lane, and court out of shape is ;
But touching the stone
By the stout cobbler thrown,
'Twas long honoured as Populi Lapis.
Thus this stone of renown
(jave its name to the town.
And oft by this Koman
And classic cognomen,
In old charters and deeds.
Of Folkestone one reads,
Although I, of all scribes, on abstruse archaeology.
Am tlie first to promulgate the true etymology.
t> THE FOSSIL BRIDE.
Now tradition — as true to my thinking as history,
Which, though many defend,
Is full of fahles from end to end —
Tradition, I say, has a **tale of mystery,"
Of a certain young lady,
In her beauty's hey-day, —
Old legends a marvel of loveliness make her —
Who, A.M. 95,
Was buried alive
By an oversight of the undertaker;
And that, somewhere or other, near Folkestone town,
She reposed in the chalk cliffs, some ten fathoms down,
In all her charms so many and great,
Quite as good as new, in a fossil state.
Most who heard of the tale were inclined to quiz it, —
A young gentleman, though, who was there on a visit,
Eemark'd — for it happened that, when up at college, he
Got deep in the science that's now such a pet —
**IVe heard of some wonderful things in geology,
And it don't at all follow she's not alive yet."
Then a pickaxe and shovel he cramm'd in a satchel or
Bag, and instanter set out, for he said,
*< Be she fossil or flesh, the damsel I'll wed,
Or else I'm determined I'll die an old bachelor " :
A method of wooing no doubt rather novel.
To make one's advances with pickaxe and shovel.
He dug and he delved, through limestone and chalk,
Till at last he broke into a stratum of talc ;
'* Eureka!" he cried, "I've found my divinity,
For taWs a sure symptom of woman's vicinity."
THE FOSSIL BRIDE.
And there, sure enough, a few feet in advance.
The lady reclined in a species of trance.
The youth gazed enrapt, for he saw at a glance
That the charms in the hooks which her story related,
So far from o'er-praised, had been much under-rated.
Then said he, sottovoce — he fear'd to alarm her, —
*' Have I found thee, my antediluviein charmer!"
But the words that fell
On her ear broke the spell,
And the damsel awoke with a scream and a start,
Gazed wildly about, and then said " Bless my heart I
I've over-slept sadly — I feel such a dizziness — "
Then perceiving the stranger — "Pray, Sir, what's your
business ? "
He politely explained he'd no business at all,
But having heard of her inhumation,
He had vow'd himself to her extrication,
And hoped, on that plea, she'd excuse the call.
The lady then begg'd that he'd make no apology,
Inasmuch none was needed,
And to thank him proceeded.
In a speech quite unique for its terse phraseology.
Then he takes her fair hand, which in his own lingers,
And she puts on no starch look.
But says, with an ai-ch look,
** If you love me. Sir, say so, but don't pinch my fingers :
**Love you! do you doubt me? — be mine, my queen,
And we will be married by Westminster's Dean " : *
And to show that he meant it, and having a nice sense
Of decorum, he pull'd from his pocket the license.
8 THE FOSSIL BRIDE.
How the lady said ** Yes,"
I can't at all guess;
All I know is consent was expressed or implied,
For a blush, like Aurora's, suffused her fair cheek,
And she added, aside,
**One don't get such a chance every day in the week."
Then he offer' d his arm, and without more debating.
They jump'd into a Hansom the youth had in w:aiting,
' And their vows being plighted,
They were duly united;
Eeturning from church, to make short my story.
In a carriage and pair of icthyosauri;
While, to swell the procession, remarkably stout riders
Were on two megatheriums mounted as outriders;
The Dean brought up the rear, as becoming so vast a don,
In a neat brougham drawn by a high-trotting mastodon.
©n Uroton anU Smitii, tljeir Itin ani Ititfj.
There's Smith pretends— one scarcely can imagine it —
To trace his lineage back to old Plantagenet ;
While Brown as pertinaciously — proh pudor ! —
Maintains that he's descended from the Tudor.
How have these regal houses dwindled down !
One into Smith, the other into Erown.
Cfje Song of tije Ulacftierrg.
When, hor days fully numbered, in haste to take wing,
Summer packs up her traps, and flits after the Spring ;
And Autumn, on forests where fallow-deer roam.
With artist-like skill, lays her rich polychrome ;
And the yellow-brown harvest is cleared from the ground.
And trimly thatch'd corn-ricks the homestead surround :
0, then let us ramble
Where the merry
Hangs thick on the bramble!
When the sportsman, long idle. Ids warfare renews.
And the hares and the partridges shake in their shoes;
And the huntsman with hopes of fresh laurels is flush.
And bids roost-robbing Reynard take heed to his brush;
When we rid man's examplars, the bees, in their hives,
Like merciless rogues, of their wealth and their lives :
0, then let us ramble
Where the merry
Hangs thick on the bramble!
10 THE SO^G OF THE BLACKBERRY.
When tremulous dewdrops the epider's web deck,
Like a circlet of gems on a fair lady's neck;
When the robin comes nearer the dwellings of men,
And gives provident thought to the winter time, when
He will seek, as his fears to necessity yield,
His gruh from the window instead of the field :
0, then let us ramble
Where the merry
Hangs thick on the bramble !
And 0, when the Autumn is past, and the air
Is thick with the snow-flake, the boughs are all bare ;
And the wind whistles shrill, where sweet music it made
Through the eloquent leaves of the fay-haunted glade ;
And, shiv'ring, we turn from the frost-fetter' d earth
To the blazing yule log on the love-circled hearth :
We'll think on our ramble
Where the merry
Hung thick on the bramble.
An Autumn mom of neither mist nor rain.
But a strange hybrid of the blended twain :
for dear Katie, an the chill dank air
To shake out sunshine from her golden hair !
Thanks for thy flowers I
Dear simple things ;
Which Affection ever
To her loved one brings.
The hero's laurels,
The poet's bays,
Come of watchful nights
And toilsome days.
We must dig for gold
Through the dirt and dross,
And find, to our grief,
That the gain is loss.
But the precious flowers
Are freely given ;
And attract to earth
The tints of heaven.
The primrose, type
Of dawn's pale hue ;
And the violet steep'd
In noon's cloudless blue.
But flowers will wither.
And thine are dead
Their tints all faded,
Their fragrance fled.
Yet round them ever
A charm still lingers ;
For they were pluck'd
By thy faery fingers.
And they are laid
In a precious book,
Where I often gaze,
With a miser's look,
As on gems more rare
Than e'er lit the mine ;
And on none more fondly,
Sweet friend ! than thine.
To Croquet, all the rage,
Their skill young ladies bring ;
Not so much to put the ball
As their finger through the ring.
Cfje ©III, ©III Storg.
iV Maiden so fair — I give up, in despair,
All attempts to describe her attractions —
Was besieged by a score of suitors, who swore
She had splinter'd their hearts into fractions.
The first was a Poet, who profanely said ** Blow it!'*
When in vain with six sonnets he'd plied her ;
Propounding his hopes in figures and tropes,
Which exceedingly mystified her.
Her a Painter address' d, whose heart in his breast
Was thumping, he said, like a mallet;
But his suit, 'twas distressful, was quite unsuccessful.
Though his tongue was well oil'd like his palette.
Next a Barrister pale, he hung about the Old Bailoy,
But Themis appear 'd to disdain him ;
Prosecutor nor thief ever gave him a brief.
And the lady declined to retain him.
Then a learned M.D., who oft wanted a fee —
For talent is sadly neglected —
His science applied, and the stethescope tried,
But found the dame's heart not affected.
Next a popular Preacher attempted to reach her.
But the lady remain'd still obd«rate;
An Archdeacon or Dean had been welcome, I ween.
But she could not put up with a Curate.
14 THE OLD, OLD STORY.
Then a bold son of Mars, rich in medals and scars,
Tried to lure the coy maid to the altar;
But in Tain was his art, for he found that her heart
Was as likely to yield as Gibraltar.
Last came a great City man, not a handsome or witty man,
With the gout, though he chose to deny it ;
He had dabbled in tallow, which perhaps made him so sallow,
And, 'twas said, half a million made by it.
She, though figures of speech were out of the reach
Of the maid's intellectual grapple,
At once catching the sense of pounds, shillings and pence,
Atalanta-like, pick'd up the apple.
Though to sell hearts for gold is a crime which I hold
In atrocity equal to simony.
She, not hesitating, nor for post's delays waiting.
Telegraphed '* You're the man, Sir, for my money."
i^ulla Eosa <Sine Spina.
Nulla rosa sine spina,
'Not excepting Adelina ;
Who, though witty, fair, and young,
Hath a sharp one in her tongue.
OP A FBIEND WHO ABANDONED THE LTBE FOB THE EASEL.
Methought 'twas early morning, and with spirits fresh and
I breathed the gale of Tempers vale, in pleasant Thessalie ;
And all around was musical — the bird upon the spray,
And the merry brooks, through shady nooks, went singing
on their way.
The fearless fawn, from sparkling lawn the dow dash'd, and
Came skipping forth to welcome me, and, from his leafy lair,
The fox peer'd out with courage stout, for they were safe
Who vex the morn with hound and horn, and frantic
When towards me stray'd a pensive maid, her face was
Her hose's hue was deepest blue, dishevell'd fell her hair :
Wliile to her breast a lyre she prest — it may have been
a lute —
Thi-ee of the strings were broken, and the other two wen*
16 A DREAM.
She tum'd aside when me she spied; I flew to cahn her
When on her face I mark'd the trace, alas ! of recent tears.
The sex I love all things ahove, and hate to see them cry ;
So I stepped up to the damsel's side, and ask'd *^the reason
The maiden shy made no reply, but look'd down at her
And, seeing they were down at heel, I knew it was the
When further prest to ease her breast, and tell me all her
With kerchief dry she wiped her eye, and blew her Grecian
''I loved a youth with fondest truth; his childhood I
With faery lays of Arthur's days, and legends quaint and
His riper thought my precepts taught, and then, on bolder
1 bade him keep an eagle's sweep, and higher themes to sing.
Then gossip Tame got hold of his name, and bruited it far
And matron and maid marvell'd much, 'tis said, if that nice
young man had a bride.
Yet the base ingrate has left to her fate the damsel who
loved him well.
And has given his heart to my sister Art, that painted
FAIR AND FORTY. ii
Thus sung or said that dolorous maid, whom to pity I
oould but choose,
AVIien she seized her lyre strings, catgut and wire strings,
and twisted them into a noose.
When this I spied, I rush'd to her side — her purpose it
was to choke —
To circumvent her fell intent, and daring the struggle I
ifair anli jFortg.
JVlab ! I had thought since last we met.
Long years had rolled away :
But, judged by thine unalter'd face.
They dwindle to a day.
Thine eye as bright as midnight star,
With youthful glee still twinkles;
While many a coeval cheek
Is kalendar'd with wrinkles.
So fresh thy charms, the lapse of years
Such small despite hath done thee.
That we might think admiring Time
Had stopp'd to gaze upon thee.
TO A PEIEND WITH A VOLUME OP TRAVELS.
Who's for a trip in my paper ship ?
The Blue Peter* is chiding delay ;
And my faery crew, in their jackets of blue,
Are getting the craft under way.
And now, where shall we sail ? To what point blows the gale ?
It sets in for the rugged North Pole ;
Where the sun only shows the tip of his nose, —
So away for the ice-girted goal.
Dear lady, beware of that huge polar bear,
And that seal, her queer offspring defending ;
Pray, how would you feel with just such a seal,
Erom your neck by your watch-chain depending ?
And that walrus — here comes he — his gait's rather clumsy,
And his feet are not fashion' d for dancing ;
By some call'd a sea-horse, not so named, of course,
From his being addicted to prancing.
But your limbs — don't they shiver ? I'm all in a quiver,
So 'twere better our wind we were hauling ;
The gale's taking a shift, and will give us a lift
From those icebergs— they're truly appalling.
♦ The signal for getting under way.
THE PAPER SHIP. 19
Where next, lady, say ? To Ceylon or Bombay ?
Or, perhaps, you'd prefer the Mauritius ?
I feel quite underdone, and a roast in the sun —
Don't you think so ? — will be quite delicious.
But, bless me ! how hot on a sudden it's got !
I really must doff my pea-jacket :
I'm quite proud to be skipper of such a fast clipper,
She beats the best Government packet.
A boa-constrictor — my stars, what a picture I
We've escaped him — a happy evasion !
To preserve him from famine, he's just bolted a Brahmin, —
That's a bull of the Brahmin persuasion.
For the sunny strand of the Holy Land,
Though fiercely there flameth the crescent.
Our vessel we'll guide, o'er the cloven tide,
And forget the by-gone in the present.
But contagion stalks through the public walks.
And the maid and the mother are weeping ;
^ot a home or a shed but contains its dead,
For the plague on the hot blast is sweeping.
The telescope — thank ye ; 'tis the land of the Yankee,
Whom we find, when he's " riled," so cantankerous ;
But alas, for our morals ! in family quarrels,
The nearer akin the more rancourous.
We were probably wrong when we tax'd his Souchong,
But no matter now which was the sinner ;
If you go there a guest, he'll give you his best,
And drink the Queen's health after dinner.
20 THE PAPER SHIP.
Lo I. Finisterre's Cape ! Spain, the land of the grape,
And orange, and lime, and pomegi-anate ;
Possessed by the Devil, thy good's turned to evil,
So darkly malignant 's thy planet.
nation ill-sped ! thy right hand is red
With the blood of the sage and the hero :
He's a blockhead who rales o'er a kingdom of fools,
And so wisely thought Espartero.
Hark Faction's fierce shout I put the good ship about,
We'll home to our own happy island ;
Its green slopes and swells, and dear wooded dells, —
He is blest who can say " It is my land,"
Which, when foes, arm'd and eager, came her coasts to
And against her each flag of the earth was unfurl'd,
Threw back the defiance, and in godly reliance,
Arose in her strength and gave peace to the world.
i^apier at l^agliala.
Through Afric's wilds he sought the fight,
And gallantly he won it :
For Vent, Vidi, Vici read,
I've been, and gone, and done it.
BEitij a Cijina Silk ©anlifterdiief.
This kerchief — or the vendor told a story —
Is one of a dozen
But late imported from the territory
Of the moon's first cousin.
Though slight the gift, 'tis free from flaw or fracture ;
For thy sake, dear one!
I would 'twere of a costlier manufacture —
A real Cashmere one.
Like the rich shawls they weave the Nawaabs' land in,
Who rule their houses
With marvellous discretion, notwithstanding
They've fifty spouses,
From whom obedience they've a knack of winning,
Us English shaming;
I'm told they learn it by degrees, beginning
But thou art of a spirit meek and quiet,
Than gaud or gem — not prone to riot
Like the Oriental.
Now health to thee, and joy — wedded or single :
May Sorrow's Marah
Its bitter waters in thy cup ne'er mingle -
Addio, Car a !
5n i^raise of tift aKorlli toe ILi&e in.
The world we live in 's a very good world,
Though the fashion has been to abuse it ;
The world wo live in 's an excellent world,
If only we knew how to use it.
It's a right merry world, for there's plenty to do ;
A world 'tis to plough and to sow in ;
And where, above all, there's abundance of room
For love to take root and to grow in.
The love that embraceth all human kind,
A catholic substantiality ;
Whose motto is ** deeds not words" — all the rest
Is mere drawing-room sentimentality.
The love that threadeth blind alleys and lanes.
To seek Lazarus out in his hovel ;
While Dives, ensconced in his snug easy chair,
Is reading the last new novel.
Love that smiles with the joyous, yet weeping with those
Who are bow'd by distress or disaster ;
That seeketh the sheep that hath stray'd from the fold,
And bringeth it home to the Master.
The love that feels, when a fellow man falls,
^o virtuous indignation ;
But rather thanks God, in its humble heart,
That it had not the like temptation.
Yes I the world we live in 's a very good world,
For those who, eschewing its vanity,
Work with God, and for God, and thus carry out
True muscular Christianitv.
Beauty! that Care upon thy brow should fling
The withering shadow of his dusky wing !
Care, that doth e'en outstrip impatient Time
To snatch tliy roses in their summer prime.
What influences join to work thee ill!
First Love, the oft forsworn and trusted still :
Love that doth steal, in guises multitbrm.
Into the heart it may not take by storm.
Lynx-sighted Jealousy his torture tries,
(ilaring upon thee with his yellow eyes;
And cold Neglect, of the contemptuous brow.
Shoots to thy heart his blighting chillness now ;
And Grief, that smites the Horeb of tJiy teai-s;
And Doubt, the Bridge of Sighs between thy hopes
a life &kztc\)
IN AN UNFINISHED BUILDING.
'Twas twelve o'clock, and the ring of the trowel
No longer was heard on the brick ;
And the workmen had all deserted the wall,
Where they late were so busy and thick.
Cast from shoulders — a wide ell — the hod rested idle
On the wall where the mortar was drying ;
And the mattock and hammer had ceased from their
And around were confusedly lying.
For carpenter, joiner, and builder, had each
Himself to his dinner betaken :
With an appetite keen, which needed, I ween,
No Burgess's sauce to his bacon.
8ome sought the "Red Cow," some the ** Barley Mow,"
And others the "Bricklayers' Arms;"
As Barclay's, or "Whitbread's, or Meux's " Entire,"
Had for each its particular charms.
I glanced around, and heard not a sound,
And I fancied myself all alone;
Till I happen'd to look in a darkish nook.
And there, on a block of stone.
A LIFE SKETCH. 25
Were seated, in life, a man and his wife —
He scarcely grown out of the lad ;
While she was fair, with rather red hair,
And not very blithely clad.
And, this couple between, a delf basin was seen.
Into which they both were dipping ;
Cold potatoes a few, with a bone or two,
A crust of dry bread and some dripping.
They spoke little and low, bnt their eyes, I trow,
Told love's unmistakeable story ;
a dinner of herbs, which no strife disturbs,
Beats an alderman's feast in its glory!
'Twas a scene for Sterne, who 'd for pathos a turn,
In a ** Sentimental Journey; "
But, alas for such ! I've about as much
Sentiment as an attorney.
So 1 said — for deeds 1 greatly prefer
To words to express what I feel with, —
"Here's two-pence, old fellow, go fetch thee a pint
Of porter to moisten thy meal with."
Time flics, and little wonder, when we find
To kiU it is the aim of half mankind.
Bartis anti Belld.
AN APOLOGY FOB A BIETHDAY ODE.
'Tis not a pleasant thing to have a rhymer
For one's next neighbour ;
For, like the "little busy bee," the chimer
I^e'er slacks his labour.
One can't be bom, or come of age, or marry,
In fact do aught, —
He's down on you, like eagles on their quarry.
Quick as thought.
I'd rather live beneath ten bells' brass clamour,
PuU'd by old stagers
Performing, every clapper a sledge hammer,
It needeth not so many tongues, I trow.
To call the people
To church — one heWs enough for every heaUj
Except Bow steeple.
Let some sly dame but catch in Hymen's string
A civic Midas, —
The noisy knaves forsooth must have a ring
Because the bride has.
But for these bards, no word in our vocabulary
Is bad enough for them ;
Were I but King, I'd try if the constabulary
Were quantum suff, for them.
HAHDS AM) MELhS. *4
Don't think I wish to ape the rogues I'm rating : —
Your worship knows
My rhyme's a species of electro-plating
On leaden prose.
Lead's the most Quaker-like and quiet metal
That Science tells of ;
It being such as you can't make a kettle,
Or gongs, or bells of.
Would I could bring, from wit's exhaustless treasury,
To aid th' hilarity
Which welcomes this most welcome anniversary.
Some attic rarity.
But here's your health — reach me th' Amontillado —
The toast I'll dress
In Hadji Baba's language, " May your shadow
^Never be less ! "
3 Btrtfjiag ffireetinfl.
Another year of spinsterhood !
Well, 'tis the lot you've chosen ;
For one so fair, were beaux more rare,
Might pick from half-a-dozen.
And none need pity, few will blame, —
They 'scape a world of trouble
Who ploy life's safe and single game,
Xor care the stake to double.
2^ A BIRTHDAY GREETIXG.
If life be bondage, celibates
Of fetters wear the lightest ;
While certes, of all earthly ties,
The knot^s by far the tightest.
And yet in Duty's strait, plain path,
Where all are bade to mingle,
Are virtues, ay, and graces too.
For those who tread it single.
And 0, of that strait narrow way,
The blessed goal is Heaven ;
Where He hath said, " they marry not,
I^or are in marriage given."
Then be thou as those virgins wise.
Thy heart from God ne'er roaming ;
Eeady, when rings the midnight cry, —
** Behold the Bridegroom coming !"
Cfje iLittle Falenttne*
thank you, Marianna !
For your note and picture fine :
How kind in such a little boy
To choose your Valentine !
1 would send you back a letter
With my own hand, but indeed
I cannot write, though grandmama
Is teaching me to read.
THE MTTLK VALENTINE. *2\)
But the soft, sweet Spring is coining —
1 shall meet it in the lane ;
And the flowers — I saw them wither —
Will come to life again.
And dear mama will take me
To the sunny meadows where
There grows the pretty daisy,
And the golden cup is there.
And 111 seek the yellow daffodil.
On the green bank where it lies ;
And the blue sweet-smelling violet,
Like sister Mabel's eyes.
And of all the fairest blossoms
A gay garland I will twine ;
And give to Marianna
For her pretty Valentine.
Good night, dear Marianna !
Tm tired and sleepy too ;
And when I*m in my little bed
ril tiT to dream of vou.
STo tfje ©li gear.
Good bye, old chap!
If you must go
To your long last iiap
In the shades below.
I don't complain :
I've had my share
Of joy and pain,
Comfort and care.
At your meed of bliss
Or woe 'twere vain
To carp — one's miss
Is another's gain.
Spite of fame or blame,
Or hopes or fears,
'Twill be all the same
In a hundred years.
Eo tfje 0eto gear.
The Old Year is sped,
And here comes the New,
To reign in his stead, —
Young spark ! how d'ye do ?
But why that closed book ?
What a churl you are !
Come, let us look
At your bill of fare !
The mighty to be
Of thy tome reveal ;
But lo ! on it I see
Is set Mercy's seal.
Why troubles and fears
From the future borrow ?
He's a spendthrift in tears
Who woidd discount his sorrow.
Pnnied by Joseph Causton & Sons, 47, Kastcheap; K.O.,
and Southwark Street, S.K.